


Dancing On My Own

by Claireabellalou



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Break Up, Closeted Character, Drama & Romance, Drinking, Gay, Heartbreak, Ice Cream, Intervention, Kinda, M/M, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 07:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claireabellalou/pseuds/Claireabellalou
Summary: Marcus Flint is reeling after a break up four months down the line. Oliver Wood is stuck firmly in the closet. What happens when they end up at the same event together? Post War Rated M for language and a slight explicit scene.





	Dancing On My Own

Marcus Flint sat at the small breakfast nook in his little flat drinking coffee and eating the freshly baked croissants his elves had forced upon his plate. They loved to bake and French foods were a particular favourite of theirs, not that he was complaining of course, their effort showed in the burst of flavours on his palate. Today’s flavour was pecan and marmalade, not something he would have chosen himself but he could have sworn he orgasmed on that first taste, coupled with the freshly brewed coffee, and he felt like he was in heaven before eight on a Monday morning. Couldn’t life always be this good?

The answer came to him in the form of an owl. An owl that was every bit as repugnant as its owner. Draco Malfoy’s owl. In its beak it brought with it an invitation to the engagement of the much talked about couple of the decade. The way the Prophet reported it they were royalty amongst the mere mortals of the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy and War Heroine Hermione Granger were set to be married and the engagement party invitations had already begun to arrive. Fortunately, or not so, depending on your outlook, Marcus had the pleasure of calling Draco an old friend. They’d grown up together, whilst their fathers had been hell bent on spreading hate and evil, the boys had toddled about in Draco’s nursery with many of the other boys whose lives led similar paths. Now though they were adults. Now Draco was about to marry his one time school yard rival and the wizarding world was going crazy at the mere thought. As if the future King himself were about to marry his Queen. Though, knowing Draco, that is exactly how he saw it.

Marcus sighed. The last place he wanted to be right now was in company. He much prefered to come home from work and spend his nights alone. A bottle of Butterbeer (or Firewhiskey if he felt particularly bad) to accompany his work. Occasionally he read and sometimes entertained a friend or three with some Elf-made Wine and French food. On the lonelier nights he took to reading. He liked reading. He read fiction because fact was too heartbreaking. He would read the last five chapters of a book before he even started the beginning so that he knew he could cope with the ending. His life was miserable enough and the last thing he needed right now was to add further heartbreak in the form of fictional characters. Of course he often got stung that way too but he reasoned it would be worse if he didn’t skim through the end first. He read the invitation, it had a plus one next to his name. What a cruel joke.

He finished his croissant and drank his now lukewarm coffee before heading to the floo, he knew he ought to reply to the invitation but he couldn’t bare it. Couldn’t bare to see that damn plus one next to his name. Couldn’t bare the heartbreak of attending alone whilst all of his friends were coupled up. Couldn’t watch the pair of lovebirds smiling away around the room knowing the reason for his own heartbreak would be at the same party, plus one or not. But it wasn’t like he couldn’t not go either. Draco was one of his closest and dearest friends, Hermione too he had come to care for. He couldn’t be so selfish as to not put his own misery aside for one evening so that he could celebrate their happiness. It wasn’t their fault his ex had turned out to be such a twat. He had to go, he had little choice unless he caught dragon pox. Besides, he knew Pansy would drag his arse there if she even got wind he planned to stay at home with a tub of Fortescue's finest. Broken hearted or not she would have him suited and booted like the aristocratic pureblood son he was born to be and he would entertain witches and wizards on his friend's’ behalf. He would be polite, drink champagne and eat tiny morsels of food passed off as hors d’oeuvre before dancing with a witch or two until it was an acceptable enough time to excuse himself and go home to drown his sorrows in his Firewhiskey. He would not seek out that strong Scottish accent that made his knees weak or the chocolate brown eyes that pierced his very soul. He would not wonder what Oliver Wood was doing...who Oliver Wood was doing. He would not. Because this night would be about Draco and Hermione.

He arrived at his office within seconds and though he could work from home he chose not to, he knew the temptation to retreat back to bed all too well and he had a show to put on. He had to show he was fine. He was fine and moving on and doing well within his work. Well, if only one of those things were true then Marcus was happy because business was booming. He had studied to become a Curse Breaker once he left Hogwarts, went on to become an apprentice at Gringotts and moved through the ranks. He became so focused on his work, so determined to make a better name for himself than the one his father had given him that he had opened his own company and now he was looking for staff because he was having to turn work away and if there was one thing he hated more than anything else it was turning away work. Luckily Pansy had been more than happy to help him out and had recommended her brother in law for a position, though of course she had her own conditions. Marcus often wondered how on earth she had come to marry Ronald Weasley at all but in all honesty he was just glad that the witch had found someone willing to take her on - she was hard work and often needy, she didn’t need to be coddled; she wanted passion and hunger and someone who would happily engage in a blazing row at four in the morning and for whatever else Ronald Weasley was, he was exactly what Pansy Parkinson had needed. They were married after less than a month together. His mother had nearly had a stroke when the papers reported that the pair had eloped without telling a soul. When they came home they were certainly done for. Everyone knew Molly liked a howler and, well, Pansy it seemed, liked to use them too.

Bill Weasley was due to come to the office for nine that morning and though Marcus had done his homework on the man, looking up his credentials and work history (for which he was very impressed) he didn’t know much about him. During their school years Bill was four years his senior and their paths had never really crossed. Marcus kept to his small group of Slytherins, though rowdy as they were, whilst Bill it seemed, was a quiet one who was more studious than (some) of his brothers. At least, those that Marcus was more familiar with. He already had an idea of what he wanted to offer the man but the majority of that depended on how well they got on. Marcus never liked to work with people he didn’t instantly like but he had promised Pansy and he was loathe to get on the witches bad side.

He needn't have worried, Bill Weasley turned up ten minutes early just as he should. He waited patiently to be called through and already had a portfolio ready to show to Marcus. They decided to go for an early brunch after the meeting was concluded and Marcus had the company's solicitor draw up some papers. He had been very impressed though the work history he already knew and of course Pansy had talked the man up quite a lot. But they hit it off and Marcus was almost begging the older man to invest in his business by the end of the interview. They knew with their clientele combined the company would soar and they would likely still need extra staffing especially since Bill’s wife was currently pregnant with their second child. They agreed on all the formalities before heading to the Three Broomsticks to celebrate.’

By the time Marcus got home that night he was well and truly drunk, he had a signed contract in his pocket and though he now only owned a little over half of his business he felt like a weight had been lifted that he hadn’t realised he’d been carrying. 

When he put his key in the lock - having been too impaired to take the Floo or apparate and not having the forethought to bring with him his usual sober up potion since he hadn’t planned on a liquid lunch - Marcus was surprised to find his sitting room, that on a normal day where upon it would be empty was small in size to begin with now seemed overcrowded as a group of his friends congregated on his sofas obviously waiting for his return.

He spotted Draco, Theo, Cassius, Adrian, Blaise and, turning his head expecting to see Pansy amongst the group of men he was even more shocked to see a flash of the same red hair he’d spent the day with though this time in the form of the man’s youngest brother - Ronald Weasley. Ron grimaced an apologetic smile. “Sorry mate but it was either me or a very pregnant and very angry Pansy and this lot,” he said pointing towards the other men, “practically begged me to come in her stead.”

“That, I agree, was a wise move on everyone’s behalf.” Marcus slurred. “Though I’m sure she’s already drafting up my latest howler.”

“Before we even left.” Ron admitted with a slight laugh.

“Fucks sake how much have you had to drink?” Draco asked

“Why? Jealous Malfoy?”

“Jealous? No Flint you cunt I’d rather be at home shagging my fiance not here staging a fucking intervention with you.”

“Bloody hell Malfoy, mental images.” Ron half moaned half gagged.

“Stop being a child Weasel. She’s my fiance, we shag. Get over it.”

“I, for one, don’t mind the mental images and if you wanted to go more in depth I would be ever thankful.” Theo said with a smirk.

“I mind.” Marcus said with a sigh, “Come on mate Hermione is practically his sister how would you feel if he said it about Pansy?”

“Are you insinuating we haven’t all seen Pansy on her knees at some point?” Draco asked pointedly.

“He’s got me there mate, sorry.” Marcus said to Ron as Adrian passed him a potion. He didn’t question what it was, recognising the grey sludge of the extra strength sober up, pepper up and painkiller combination potion that the man had patented and brewed. “Thanks Ade,” he added as he downed the contents. “Still not got it to taste better eh?”

“Not yet but we’ll get there mate and then I’ll put it out for sale.”

“It’ll fly off the shelves, I don’t know why you don’t just do it now. People will still buy it.” Marcus said, his senses clearing up.

“He’s a stickler for detail” Cassius added.

“It needs to be perfect.” Adrian defended.

Everyone rolled their eyes, the conversation one they had had plenty of times.

“So is anyone going to explain why I need an intervention?” He asked as he took off his jacket and shoes before going to the kitchen to find some food. The croissant that morning was good, the brunch too but the amount he had drank in the hours since had soaked up anything his stomach had long since held and now he was ravenous. He thanked the gods his elves loved the kitchen so much and had left him the fruits of their labours in the form of French onion soup. He let them watch the cooking channel once and that followed by Les Miserables and they were hooked on the culture. They even begged him to have an elf sent over from France. He drew the line at that. He might indulge their french fancies when they needed it, even paid them a pretty penny and ordered them to take a break in a lovely french chateau twice a year but their latest request was too far, even for him. The soup had been kept with a warming charm and with freshly baked croutons and a sprinkling of cheese on top and the elves were about to get a raise because how could this small bowl taste so good? But it did. And he almost didn’t hear what his so called friends were saying. Because he didn’t want to and because he knew them too well anyway and also, he knew he couldn't change whatever it was they wanted him to change. He was dealing, in his own way but he was. He didn’t need a damn intervention.

“You need to stop moping about.” Marcus groaned. He did not mope.

“You need to get out more.” They had just been telling him he was drinking too much.

“Why don’t you try dating again?” Yeah, like that was going to happen.

“What about a holiday?” He bloody wished.

“Maybe a witch?” Did they not realise he was gay?

“Or a muggle?” He wasn’t so crass as to think himself better than a muggle.

“Just for a night?” He’d tried a one night stand. He couldn’t do it. He needed the connection.

“Or two?” Marcus sighed as he ate the last of his soup.

“Look mate we’re all really worried about you.” Blaise added as Marcus took his dirty dishes to the sink and stood cleaning them in the muggle fashion so as to keep himself busy.

“I’m fine” he said through gritted teeth.

“Anyone who has to say they’re fine are not fine” Theo reasoned.

“Okay, I’m not fine but I would be if you lot bloody left me alone. Fucksake I got dumped, I’m not going to suddenly kill myself or anything. It’s been four months for Merlin’s sake. If I was going to do it don’t you think I would by now?”

“You just don’t seem to be moving on mate that’s all.” Adrian answered.

Marcus felt anger bubble inside him. They didn’t understand. How could they? They hadn’t lost their soulmates. They didn’t know the pain he felt. He pinched the bridge of his nose before looking around the room. “Draco, how would you feel if Hermione dumped you? Theo if your Luna left you? Blaise what if Ginny walked out - all of you, you all have someone, tell me how would you feel if they walked away so easily. He is my soulmate like it or not and I can’t just get over that. I can’t just have a one night stand. I love him. He is me. I can’t date because they’re not him. I can’t shag a witch because I’m fucking gay and I only want him. I can’t go on holiday because I’m just as fucking depressed there as I am at home but I swear to Merlin and Morgana and the fucking muggle Gods if I have to if you lot start making a habit of showing up here regularly then I will fucking leave and not come back. Do you understand?” He demanded to the group.

Everyone nodded glumly.

“Good; now either take off your shoes or get your arses back to your partners and let me get a shower because I smell like Hagrid at happy hour and honestly I just want to sleep.”

Everyone moved to stand and readied for the door. “Will you be at the party this weekend?” Draco asked as they headed out.

“The engagement? I wouldn’t miss it mate.” Marcus answered as he said his goodbyes and closed the door behind the group. He heard someone say in the distance that they needed to fix things but he honestly didn’t care. He got out a tub of Fortescue’s and let it melt while he went and showered before heading to bed with his ice cream. They were not right. They were not.

The rest of the week passed by in a blur, Marcus and Bill had a lot they needed to do to ensure their new partnership would run as smoothly as they hoped and so each man would be up and out at the break of dawn and barely home in time for dusk. There was mountains of paperwork to complete, a whole name change for the business and contracts to be run over but by Saturday afternoon everything was in order and what had once been named Flint’s Breaking and Entering was now FW & Sons, Breaking and Entering. Things were starting to go as planned and with their combined clientele on the books they were sure they would need to hire a third as there just weren’t enough hours in the day. They decided to have an early start that day and go home at noon, an easily earned treat for the pair after having worked so many hours throughout the week and with an engagement party to attend, a few extra hours to prepare themselves was all the reward they could give themselves.

After a quick lunch together at The Three Broomsticks the pair made their separate ways. Bill taking to the company Floo to go home and help Fleur ready their daughter for a sleepover and Marcus ventured into Diagon Alley in search for an engagement gift.  
He trawled through shop after shop but honestly had no idea what to buy the pair. They had more money than anyone else he knew, what could he possibly buy for the man with everything and the woman who only liked books? Wizarding propriety would have him buy some such ugly vase that would only be brought out when the gifter was visiting, they would ooh and ahh over its (unseemly) beauty and how just because there was a picture of a certain God or Goddess painted across the porcelain their presence on said ugly vase would somehow have influence on their life together. It was utter bollox in Marcus’ opinion. Pureblood properties were utter bollox and he was loath to spend a year's earning on such an atrocity when every other pureblood attending would gift a near identical item - not that money was the issue here. He just hated those damned vases. In the end, and after scouring the fifth shop with little to no luck he came upon Flourish and Blotts though his reasoning for entering was more for his own benefits he did happen to find a book about contraceptive charms. Marcus smirked to himself, the perfect present he decided, especially after that bloody so called intervention earlier in the week. Forgetting what he went in for, he purchased the book and had it wrapped before leaving and heading towards the nearest apparition point. Normally he wouldn’t dare try it when he had been drinking, which he had since it was a Saturday after all but he had to admit, since the war had ended and his split from Oliver he had drank so much and so often that his tolerance levels were much higher than he would like. His mind, after just two drinks, was as clear as ever. He knew that was a bad sign but put it to the back of his mind. He had to get home and get ready for a party he would really rather not be attending.

He was just walking past Quality Quidditch Supplies, head bent low so as to try not to spot the latest broom, the Dragon hide keeper gloves, the shiny snitches. He didn’t need any of it and besides, all he ever thought about when he saw them was Oliver. When he read the paper or heard talk of the sport his mind instantly went there. He couldn’t enjoy it anymore. The memories were far too painful. It was the only reason he was thankful for the injury he had taken at the end of the war. He had been hurt so badly there at the end by his own father, left broken and bruised and with no way to get help. His bones has fused wrong. Sure he had tried to get help when it was all over but it was too late. The damage was already done. He was lucky he hadn’t planned on a quidditch career and so he put the game behind him. Something that become much easier than he ever expected when Oliver broke up with him.

 

He finally got to the apparition point, hard as it was since the whole of Diagon Alley was a abuzz with excitement for the night ahead and with a small ‘pop’ he arrived safely in his living room.  
He didn’t even act surprised when he saw Pansy on his couch though the woman, who had grown up as a Sacred 28 daughter and could out-do nearly any person he knew on pureblood propriety, was now sprawled on his couch with one of his throw cushions between her legs. Her arms were thrown over her head and he could swear there was dribble foaming at the edges of her mouth though he valued his life and his bollocks enough not to ever mention that fact to anyone. She was clad in pyjama bottoms and, if that wasn’t a peculiar enough sight, the clearly aged red and gold Gryffindor quidditch shirt with faded letters he could barely make out on the back (though he assumed they had once read ‘Weasley’) that barely covered her enormous bump (again, something he wouldn’t dare admit out loud) and the fact that she was asleep really tied in the whole image. He couldn’t even be mad at her, pregnancy was rough on the witch and her hormones were all over the place plus, on a good day she was frightening enough. He quietly walked into the kitchen and flicked his wand a couple of times to get a pot of coffee started then moved to the fridge where he took out a slice of the lemon tart the elves had baked just the day before. He set the tray and took it in to the witch before gently rousing her. The war had been bad on all of them and even now, a couple of years down the line and you never knew what could happen if you startled someone too suddenly.

He called her name softly but he could have sworn it was the smell of the freshly brewed pot of coffee that really woke the witch. He had brought her the largest mug he owned because Pansy said coffee wasn’t worth drinking if there wasn’t a gallon of it and despite the late hour they both had a long night ahead.

“Nice pjs,” he said with a smirk as she sat up and had poured their drinks.

“Thanks, she said adding her sugar and stirring. Milk went in tea in Pansy’s opinion, not coffee. Pansy had a lot of opinions.

Her opinion on Oliver was not one he liked to hear.

“You’re still coming then.” She said as she held the hot mug between her hands. It was late September and the weather was starting to cool as Summer turned into Autumn. Marcus had yet to turn on the heat as he prefered the cold but it occurred to him now maybe his guest might appreciate some warmth.

“I said I would, RSVP’d and everything. Draco would skin me if I didn’t. You know what his mother is like about the finer details.”

“Getting out will do you some good.” She said as she eyed him up before starting on the lemon tart.

“I go out.” Marcus said defensively.

“A pub lunch during work or a drink after with your business partner does not count Flint and you know it.”

Marcus sighed because he knew she was right but he was damned if he would say as much.

“Why don’t you try one of those online dating things that Granger told us about?”

“Pansy, no offence to you or Hermione or anything but I can’t do that. I-I don’t want that. Just a quick shag it’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Then what are you looking for?” Pansy asked.

Marcus cast his eyes down into his own mug and frowned. “I already found what I was looking for.”

“Maybe that’s the point. Maybe he wasn’t-” 

Marcus cut her off sharply and glared at the witch with the most venomous look she had ever seen on him. “He was Pansy. He still is. I can’t change that. And even if I wanted to I wouldn’t. He’s everything.”

He could see she didn’t agree but was thankful she didn’t press the matter further. She finished her tart, the coffee already gone and stood to leave, “he still wears it you know.” She said softly.

“What?” Marcus asked, brows knit together in confusion.

“The leather cuff you gave him. I saw him last week. He still had it on.”

“Oh,” was all Marcus could say before she placed a kiss upon his cheek.

“I’ll see you later,” though her tone stern he knew her well enough to know she was worried about him.

When she was finally gone he closed up the floo for a while and locked his front door the muggle way. He needed an hour to himself, to talk himself around to actually going. Though he knew he was going, actually doing so wasn’t easy. He hadn’t seen Oliver in months and before that it was a very awkward meeting when Marcus’ company had been hired to fix the wards at his team's’ stadium. He hadn’t known who Oliver played for, he’d stopped following quidditch where he could, zoned out of conversations pertaining to it and barely even read the paper he took each day unless something took his fancy. He had buried his head in his company, building it up from the ruins his father had left it. Making a name for himself in the only way that could be good, building his clientele. It hadn’t been easy but it had been worth it. His social life aside from work had suffered though, which had suited Marcus just fine since he had no desire to see anyone. He’d attended a handful of ministry galas when he had to but only long enough to show his face, lend his support and leave before he bumped into anyone he’d rather not see.

Marcus fell into the couch and let out a long deep breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. Picking up the cushion Pansy had used his sleeve rode up his arm just slightly though enough for the leather cuff he wore on his wrist to catch his eye. He pulled the sleeve up further so that he could see the cuff properly. The leather was ragged, though it would be since he had worn it every day since Oliver had gifted him it on his last Christmas at Hogwarts. He had gifted back one very similar the Valentines that followed. Marcus ran the pad of his thumb over the worn leather, the edges starting to fray though he could care less. The thought of taking it off made his stomach turn. His fingers followed his thumb and came across a small dip in the fabric where even with his eyes closed Marcus knew were the stamped letters Oliver had had put there. He let the pads of his fingers feel out each of the letters that read ‘Always. O’ and when he got to the end he sighed before pulling the cushion up and screaming into it. He wasn’t ready for this.

He sat with his head there for a while before he dragged himself to the shower where he finally let himself cry, there would be no ice cream for him tonight.

oOoOoOo

He arrived at Malfoy Manor slightly late as per the norm and, being a long time friend to the Malfoy family for some years now, having the luxury of not getting caught in the rush of the floo network in the come and go room. Draco had had his mother set up a private floo for their closest friends so when he arrived there was no elf to greet him but a table of half filled champagne flutes and what looked like a roaring fire but with the doors open was more likely an illusion for aesthetics sake.

He plucked one of the glasses and made his way to the smaller of the ballrooms where he knew the event was taking place. The smaller room easily held three hundred people with plenty room to spare. The Malfoy’s had more money than sense but Marcus supposed they at least used the rooms a few times a year since Narcissa often held charity galas for one cause or another. He supposed the wedding would be in the larger room and though he had been in there many times he actually had no idea how many it held, he knew at least that it was more than double the size of the smaller.

It took a good ten minutes of walking through the main house to reach the ballroom, the music growing louder as he neared. He spotted the hostess at the doors where he was greeted by name and entered. He thought it was going to be hard to spot his small group of friends in such a busy place so he found himself heading towards the table laid out for gifts. He left his card and neatly wrapped present in an empty space and headed for the bar, muggle scotch was his drink of choice for the night and whilst waiting to place his order he could scan the crowds for people who he wouldn’t mind being in the company of.

The queue was long but the servers efficient and he was seen quicker than he had anticipated. Bill had spotted him and the pair exchanged pleasantries whilst waiting. Marcus ordered two drinks and drank the first at the bar before walking in the direction of hair as red as the man he had just been talking to since he assumed Pansy would be accompanying her husband. It didn’t take long to find the table of former Slytherin’s and their partners since many people liked to steer clear from them. A bigger space wrapped around the groups though he knew they all prefered it like that. Marcus took an empty seat next to Adrian and they all said their hello’s, making nice with his friends’ partners and doing his duty as was expected. It wasn’t long at all until his glass was empty. Luckily their table was rigged up to refillable glasses which kept Marcus happy enough.

Time passed slowly, so Marcus was thinking, the conversation was good and he loved his friends dearly but he really wanted to be at home in his pyjamas. Draco and Hermione made their way to his table about an hour after he arrived. He congratulated the couple and talked, Draco giving him a sideways glare as if scrutinising his every move and Hermione near jumping into his lap to thank him for coming. They acted as though he were made of glass. If he had been he would have broken long before. 

The pair soon moved on though their eyes and body language said they were already exhausted yet they both knew Narcissa would have their guts for garters if they dared not greet everyone in attendance.

Food was served soon after on small trays and even smaller portions just as Marcus had expected. He indulged in a handful of tastes though not enough at all to fill him and went back to his scotch having lost count how many he had drank. Now people were starting to couple off and fill the dancefloor up as they waltzed and swayed their way across the room. Marcus drank his next drink in one mouthful.

“Are you sure that’s wise mate?” Adrian asked from his right.

“What?” Marcus asked, glaring at his friend a little too harshly.

“I’m just saying, you’ve had a few already that’s all.”

“Not enough,” Marcus muttered as he put the glass back down and watched it refill.

His gaze turned to the dancefloor where Ron was trying desperately to sweep Pansy across the room. Except he was a terrible dancer and she was heavily pregnant. Though, in fairness to the pair, at least they had someone to dance with and looked happy making an embarrassment out of themselves whilst doing so.

Marcus sighed, his hands twitching for another drink.  
He was still watching his friends on the dance floor when a familiar head of chestnut brown hair passed across his vision. The hairs on the back of his neck stuck up, his skin tingling as goosebumps rose and his heart rate increasing. But he had only seen a flash of hair, and yet it was hair that he would recognise anywhere. He had had his hands buried in it enough times. He didn’t want to look but at the same time he needed to and so he did. He followed that flash until it cleared in his vision. And his body had been telling him the truth. He could see from where he sat who owned that hair as their head turned slightly to left, one half of the owners face coming into view. Marcus’ hand gripped tightly onto the tumbler he held and brought it to his mouth.

He could see the lips of the man moving. He knew there was a deep Scottish accent floating out on that dance floor. He needed to hear it as much as he needed air to breathe. So he drank his drink and asked Daphne to accompany him. The witch was all too willing to indulge him, mostly since her own dance partner, Harry Potter, was even worse than Pansy’s. 

He took Daphne’s hand and placed a small kiss atop her knuckles much to Harry’s amusement and the pair almost floated across the room towards the dancefloor. The music changed when they got there but with the room being so big and so many guests it was hard to get close to the Scotsman. The pair easily got through two songs together. Marcus would twist and turn Daphne at all the right places, dip her to the floor when the routine called for it and swayed with her like the best of them. On their third dance Pansy and Ron appeared next to them.

“You could give this one some lessons,” Pansy started as she tried to catch her breath. “He’s the worst.” Though insulting her husband she couldn’t help but smile up at the ginger-haired man.

“Give him here,” Daphne insisted as she moved to take Ron’s hand,”I need to see who really is the worst out of you and Harry because I didn’t think it could get worse than him but Merlin if you two don’t look absolutely appalling out here.” She said with a laugh and dragged Ron away.

“Shall we?” Marcus asked, offering out his hand to hers.

“Only if you go slow, he’s worn me out.” Pansy warned, her breathing still ragged.

“Of course, Mrs Weasley.” He replied with a smirk

Pansy winced.

“Still not used to it?” 

“It’s weird that’s all. Not that I’m not happy or proud, I am, on both accounts. It’s just-”

“-Weird.” He finished for her.

“Yeah.” She sighed as she put her arm around his neck and stepped closer. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here.” She whispered quietly into his ear.

Marcus pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, a brow raised in question.

“I know you’ve seen him and I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve but I worry about you Marcus.”

“I’m fine Pans.” He insisted.

And he thought he meant it. He really did.

But then that Scottish accent hit his ears and his knees went weak, he almost fell to the ground, only a heavily pregnant Pansy kept him upright. And the body of the voice came into the view, the hair, the face and then - then his dance partner. Which wouldn’t have been a problem to Marcus except that it was Cho-Fucking-Chang and he was fucking kissing the bitch right in front of him. Tongues and teeth and everything. That time Marcus wavered in his insistence he was fine. He was most definitely not fine. He knew that now as his heart hit his stomach and he all but stopped himself falling to pieces on that dancefloor right in the middle of his friends engagement party. 

Luckily Pansy saw what had happened and with a few choice words that she could only have learnt from her mother she had Marcus upright and head held high. He was not going to let them see him shatter. Not here and not now. He brushed off the invisible lint from the shoulders of his suit jacket and politely excused himself from Pansy before heading towards the bar.

When he got to the bar, having weaved himself through all the guests clustered about the room and the dancefloor he was glad to see it was practically empty, with having tables that refilled their drinks the need for a bar wasn’t as strong. He was served rather quickly and asked for a bottle of the strongest Firewhiskey they had at hand. He’d have even paid for it if he had to. He just needed to feel numb and now and the muggle scotch he had already drank hadn’t made any difference.  
The server squinted at him for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary before Draco appeared out of thin air and sanctioned off the request. Apparently having refillable drinks for free all night and just blindly handing over the bottle were not the same thing. Marcus rolled his eyes before uncorking the bottle and starting to drink.

“Flint,” Draco said with a sigh.

Marcus ignored his friend and walked off, bottle in his mouth.

If he were honest he hadn’t been watching where he was going at all, his eyes had been screwed shut so as to relish in the delicious burning of the FIrewhiskey but even if they had been open, even if he had watched where he was going? He might still have bumped into her. Accidentally on purpose of course.

As it happened though when he felt his body hit another he opened his eyes and saw as a glass of red wine spilt all over Cho Chang’s white dress. He had to hold back a smirk as the realisation that it would stain the obviously expensive item set in.

“Oh. My. God!” Cho screamed out.

“Whit th’ fuck Flint?!” A familiar Scottish accent hissed from behind her.

Marcus adjusted his eyes to stare at the man as he took another swig from the bottle. “Sorry,” he mumbled, unable to take his eyes off Oliver.

“Sorry?!” That’s aw ye hae tae say? Oliver spat.

People were starting to watch them now.

“It’s fine Ollie,” Cho said as the servers tried to help dry her off.

Marcus nodded his head towards his old quidditch rival as she tried her best to keep her dignity and excused himself. He had had enough for tonight, it was time to leave and so with the bottle still in his hands he glanced at Draco just once before heading to the exit.

He had been minding his own business and was at least half a bottle through when he heard footsteps behind him. He didn’t bother looking to see who it was, he didn’t particularly care and just supposed someone else had the same ideas of an early night, though he knew most would stay for as long as possible for the free booze and bragging rights. He continued on walking and was just about to reach the end of a corridor when someone slammed into him. His body tensed up immediately and he felt goosebumps ripple through his flesh, he knew that body. He had been pressed up against it more times that he could count. He shook himself of the thoughts that were creating a fog in his head as he straightened himself up and dared himself to look into those chocolate coloured eyes.

He rose a brow at his ex-lover, unable to trust his voice enough to ask what the damn hell he was playing at.

“I asked ye a question ye twat!” Oliver shouted in a huff, he was still trying to catch his breath from running down the corridor to catch up.

Marcus raised his brow again.

“Just noo, inside. I asked you a question!” Oliver hissed.

“You’ll have to remind me, Wood.” Marcus replied, surprising himself with how sure of himself he felt. He knew damn well what Oliver was talking about.

Though they had each straightened themselves up they were still standing close, dangerously close. “Ah said, What, The, Fuck was that?” Oliver asked as he took a step closer to Marcus, pushing him up to the wall as he took a step back.’  
“That,” Marcus started as he took another swig from the bottle, “was a fucking accident. And if you’ll recall, I apologised. Though if you ask me I think the dress looks better now, much more flattering than before.” He brought the bottle to his mouth once again.

“Will ye just gonnae-no drinking for five fuckin’ minutes?” Oliver almost shouted into the otherwise empty corridor.

“Maybe when you stop shagging witches and hiding the fact that you’re gay.” Marcus challenged pointedly.

“Aam nae gay, I’m bi an, keep yer fuckin’ voice doon!”

“Bi men like women, Wood. You only like men.”

“If tha’ were th’ case then what th’ fuck dae ye think I’m doing with Chang?” Oliver asked and winced as he realised he had used the girls surname instead.

Marcus smiled knowingly. “She’s just for show,” He said as he took another long drink from the bottle. As he took it away from his mouth he wiped the amber liquid with his sleeve and noticed Oliver’s eyes follow the action. He felt a pull in the bottom of his stomach as the other man’s pupils darkened. “a trophy for your friends and family, lest their perfect little Gryffindor hero actually show some damn courage and tell them he likes being fucked in th-” Marcus was cut off as a pair of lips crashed into his.

It was rough and raw, there were teeth and tongues but the passion was desperate and deep. So he kissed back. He let Oliver slip his tongue into his mouth and he dropped the bottle to the floor before threading his fingers into the other man’s hair. He groaned as Oliver bit his bottom lip, felt Oliver’s hand snake up his back and pull at the hair on the nape of his neck and when the Scotsman moaned into his mouth after he scratched his head he moved one hand to his shoulder and gripped him harder. The kiss burned through his veins and clouded his mind but yet pulled at his heart. He knew he needed to stop it but he couldn’t. It had been so long since he had felt...anything.

That was how the pair were, in their own little bubble, when they heard a glass shatter to the ground a few feet away. They instantly jumped apart from each other, looking thoroughly snogged as they stared in the direction they had heard the noise. Cho Chang stood, wearing her ruined white dress like a badge of honour as she witnessed her boyfriend snog their old quidditch rival. She was speechless. 

Oliver looked between Marcus and Cho as he tried to decide what to do. He went to take a step towards Marcus but decided against it and moved closer to Cho. “Cho, a-ah can explain,” he started.

Marcus actually snorted. “Just tell her the truth Wood, she just caught us, she knows what she saw. She’s not stupid. You like cock, admit it.”

“Flint, can ye just shut th’ fuck up for one minute?”

“How about I do you one better and leave, I was going home anyway.” Marcus knew this was never going to end his way, the least he could do was try and control the damage and his hurt before Oliver got his claws in too deeply. He picked up the bottle he had dropped and walked back down the rest of the corridor, determined not to cry as he felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. He couldn’t do this anymore.

 

oOoOoOo

He’d been home for about five minutes when the floo roared into life and he cursed himself for not closing it because he was sure one of his friends had come to check up on him. He turned around ready to send whoever it was back but was shocked to see Oliver stood in his living room. The other man didn’t utter a word as he took a few steps into the room and found his way to the couch where he saw the Firewhiskey on the coffee table. He proceeded to empty the contents into his mouth before letting out a sigh.

Marcus was almost too afraid to ask but he needed to know the answer, “why are you here?”

Oliver huffed a second sigh and he put the near empty bottle on the table. “Didnae ken where else tae go.” The Scotsman admitted.

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose, he could see Oliver was way past drunk and, in all honesty he wasn’t far off himself - the alcohol just hadn’t caught up with him yet. “What about Chang?” He asked.

“Didnae ken.”

It was Marcus’ turn to sigh. “Go home Wood, you’re drunk.”

“Ah cannae,” Oliver answered petulantly.

Marcus took the bait. “Why not?” He asked.

“Ah cannae stop thinking aboot ye, everyday, aw th’ time. You.”

Marcus wiped his hand down his face as he tried to pull himself together. It would easy, so easy. To just reach out and grab what he wanted, to worry about the consequences in the morning but he wasn’t that type of man. He couldn’t do that. He sighed and turned around to the cabinet before retrieving more alcohol. He needed to be more drunk for this.

They sat there for hours as they drank in near silence, neither knowing what to say to the other. Marcus closed his floo when he realised it was very possible Pansy may turn up and after that made sure to sit on a seperate seat to Oliver. As much as he loved to kiss that man, as much as he wanted to kiss him - he couldn’t do it like this. He couldn’t bare the heartache that he knew was sure to come when Oliver was long gone and all Marcus had for company was his pyjamas and a tub of ice cream.  
Eventually they landed on safe topics; quidditch and work. They ended up talking until all hours of the morning, ignoring the obvious pain that clouded them but discussing why Puddlemere United couldn’t win the season.

It was nearly three in the morning when Marcus got rid of the empty bottles, he could certainly feel the effects of the night though his tolerance was much higher than he might like to admit. Oliver stood and stretched. He’d been slumped on the couch for hours having hardly moved a muscle. He stumbled as he tried to find his footing but managed to catch himself before walking towards the fire, obviously intent on flooing somewhere.

Marcus, much steadier, raised a brow. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Wood?” He asked as he watched the Scotsman try and figure out why he couldn’t get the closed up fire to work.

“Gonnae home,”

“Like fuck you are in that state. Besides I closed the floo up hours ago, remember?”

Marcus watched as Oliver squinted, obviously trying hard to concentrate. “Hmm,” he started, “then I’ll just apparate.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “For fucks sake just take the bed, I’ll wake you up for training tomorrow. You’re not going anywhere in this state.” Marcus almost screamed. It pissed him off how Oliver was so willing to let his safety slide like that. 

Oliver knew where the bedroom was, it was the one they had shared many nights together. He stood staring at Marcus as though he had somehow sobered up in the past thirty seconds. “The bed?” He asked, his voice higher than he would like. “And, umm, where are you umm…”

Marcus would have laughed had he not felt so damn hurt. “The couch, Wood. “ He replied, adding a dramatic roll of his eyes for effect.

“I-oh”

“Just go to bed Ol,” Marcus said with a sigh. This was harder than he thought it would be and he couldn’t help but use his old name for him. He was too tired, too inebriated to care right now. 

Oliver eventually left the room and only then did Marcus set out the couch. He undressed quietly and made sure all the wards were in place before he lay down and finally let the tears out that had built up all night.

 

oOoOoOo

By morning he was all cried out and feeling better. He got up and packed away the bedding before heading to the kitchen for a drink and Adrian’s sober-up potion and then he was ready for the shower. As he stood under the jets of water he could feel the effects of the potion cleansing his mind and body, almost as if it were drawing the alcohol right out of him. The night before hadn’t been his ideal night if he were honest but he wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t missed staying up late and talking to the Scotsman all night about Quidditch, they used to do that pretty regularly.  
His mind run through the night as he tried to figure out how it had happened. As he lathered up he remembered being on the dancefloor with Daphne - switching to Pansy, he remembered hearing that thick Scottish voice for the first time in months. Remembered how he nearly gave way when he first saw the younger man. How he looked in his finely fitted suit. A muggle suit. Damn Marcus always had a particular taste for a man in a fine suit. His hand slipped down south before he felt himself hard against his hand. He couldn’t resist gripping hold of himself….well, no-one else was going to do it, were they? And the sensations that rippled through him had him moaning instantly. And then he was knocking into Cho Chang and he remembered in slow motion as the red wine spilt on her dress and Oliver popped up out of nowhere. He could see that gaze of molten chocolate boring into his soul as he demanded to know what the fuck was up. Marcus remembered walking away with his firewhiskey and then Oliver was colliding with him and he could almost feel that lithe body pressed up against his own. His hand had been working it own magic as he remembered the night in detail. He pulled and twisted, fast and slow. His breathing ragged as he came closer...but not yet...and then Marcus was pushed up against the wall and their lips met and it was all he could do to stop himself from coming right there. Marcus slowed down as he remembered the feeling of the other man’s lips on his own, remembered his tongue inside his mouth and his hands in his hair and then he couldn’t stop it and he was moaning his name under the steaming water as he came all over his hands.  
It took a few seconds to get himself right and when he did he washed himself off again before stepping out. A smile on his lips and a spring in his step. He wasn’t going to let last night break him. He could do this. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into his bedroom. Oliver was still asleep but he needed clothes and besides, he had a training session to get up for anyway.

Marcus walked into the bedroom not really caring to be quiet, and opened the wardrobe as he looked through the clothes. He didn’t have work today and in all honesty he would usually have slept in bed, the couch wasn’t as comfortable as his bed and with Oliver in the house it wasn’t really an option. He wore suits to work a lot but today he was looking for some joggers. He was still going through his clothes when he heard a mumbled voice from behind him.

“Fuck, do ye have tae?” Oliver moaned.

Marcus turned around to look at the other man. He was a mess. “What?” He asked almost too innocently. He knew what Oliver was cursing at and it wasn’t the early morning wake up.

“You know what.” Oliver glared at his ex as he let his eyes roam over Marcus’ still wet and half naked body.

“Awww, like what you see?” Marcus asked teasingly. He’d probably hate himself for this later but right now he was having fun.

“Fuck off, Flint.”

Marcus laughed. “Get up, you’ve got training today.” He said as his eyes caught what he was looking for. He dropped the towel purposely and pulled on the jogging pants before walking out to the kitchen. “Get up” he shouted again.

“You’re fucking evil, Flint” Oliver cried as he pulled the pillow over his head and tried desperately to ignore the familiar tug behind his navel.

Marcus was cooking pancakes when Oliver finally emerged. “Are ye at least going tae put a shirt on?” Oliver groaned.

Marcus had actually meant to put one on but Oliver’s torture was a nice welcome from his own usual misery. “No,” he replied. “The sober up is-”

“In the cupboard with the spices, yeah, I know. I used to live here, remember?”

Marcus was trying not to do just that but this morning was making it more difficult for him than he thought it would. At least he was getting some amusement from it he supposed. “Go and get a shower, Wood,” he sighed. Breakfast won’t be ready for a few minutes.

Oliver took the bait and once he had consumed the potion he made his way to where he remembered the bathroom to be.

Marcus tried not to let it get to him but just as he looked up to watch the other man walk away he saw the leather wrist cuff on his arm. One he had given the man himself once upon a time, just like Pansy had said. His heart was breaking all over again and he needed to get Oliver out of the flat quick so that he could wallow in self pity again.

Oliver came back out a few minutes later, his body glistening from the water and Marcus tried desperately hard not to watch but he couldn’t help when he saw the water pool at the other man’s belly button. He licked his lips before turning away to busy himself.

“There’s some clothes in my wardrobe you left behind.” He called from over his shoulder, refusing to watch him walk away.

They ate in awkward silence, except for when the Daily Prophet was delivered. They each looked at the headlines but for some reason they were not on it. Marcus had been sure Cho would have said something, though not so much about himself since his sexuality was public knowledge but Oliver was supposed to be straight. He dated girls. Kissed girls. Slept with...no, he couldn’t finish that thought off.

“She won’t hae published anythin’ anyway.” Oliver said as he got back to his pancakes.

Marcus looked up to the other man, the paper still in his hands and his brow knit in confusion. “You sound sure.” He said carefully.

“Well, she’s got ‘er own secrets she wants tae protect.” Oliver said as he finished the last bite of his food. 

Marcus just looked on confused. He didn’t know where to even start with that so he didn’t.

Oliver stood and excused himself to leave. “A guess I got training tae go tae,” he said. He was wearing some old Gryffindor quidditch gear he had left behind long ago that Marcus wasn’t going to admit he had slept with occasionally since their split.

“Yeah,” Marcus answered in reply.

Oliver left shortly after that once the floo network had been opened back up and with the dangers of falling back to his old ways Marcus finished getting dressed before heading out for a run. It was the only way to clear his head and keep in shape at the same time. He might not be a quidditch player anymore but he still liked to enjoy friendly games between friends.

When he returned home he almost didn’t see Pansy sat on the couch waiting for him, ear plugs still in he headed for the fridge for a bottle of water and when he turned around there she sat, glaring at him, arms crossed above her protruding belly.

He could see her mouth moving but for some reason couldn’t hear what she was saying until she gestured to his ears and he realised he still had his music on. He pulled the plugs out before taking a swig from the bottle. Pansy narrowed her eyes at him. “How long have you been here?” He asked conversationally.

“Long enough to know you had company last night.” Pansy said as she pointed towards the clean dishes she had set against the sink.

“Pansy, don’t you have enough housework to do at home without washing my dishes, I’ve seen how much your husband eats.”

“Touche” Pansy replied. “ So who is the lucky man?”

“What makes you think it’s a man?” Marcus asked as he took another sip of his water.

“There was no lipstick on the glass and besides the fact you don’t fuck women every woman you know was at the party last night.”

“Your mother wasn’t,” Marcus said with a glint in his eye. It was true that Posy Parkinson had not been able to attend the grand Malfoy affair though it was not for trying, poor witch had come down with a bad case of Dragon Pox the night before. Pansy had had to sedate the witch to make sure she didn’t leave the house.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Yes, you and a heavily drugged up cougar with dragon pox were at it all night.” She said as she rubbed her bump?

“Here” Marcus said as he took a second bottle and passed it to the witch as he moved to sit next to her, “and by the way, nobody was ‘at it all night’ at least not in this flat.”

Pansy took the bottle with a small smile. “You sure about that?” She asked.

“Course I am”

“Then why are there another mans clothes on the bathroom floor?” She asked sweetly.

“Damnit Wood,” Marcus muttered though not quietly enough for Pansy to have not heard.

“Wood?” She asked. “Please tell me you’re joking Marcus?” She sat waiting for an answer, “Well?” She almost yelled.

“It wasn’t planned Pans I-”

“Are you fucking stupid? Don’t you remember what he did to you?”

“Of course I fucking remember Pansy! He kissed me okay? Then he followed me home and got too drunk to leave. What would you have me do?”

“I’d have put him in the fucking cold. It’s what he deserves after everything!”

“Pans, don’t, please.”

Pansy sighed. “Marcus it won’t get any easier like this.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He asked the witch. “I slept on the couch and he’s gone now. Okay? Besides I feel alright today.”

“You promise?”

“I do.”

Eventually he managed to get Pansy to leave and he retired to bed intent on catching up on some sleep, the couch looked comfy but it was far from it and he’d only had a few hours on there anyway.

 

oOoOoOo

Marcus was awoken a couple of hours later by the floo chiming throughout the flat. He got up and wiped the sleep from his eyes as he walked into the living room ready to send Pansy back - seriously did that woman not have a life?. “Pans I’m fine just go ho-” He started to say until he finally got through the room and saw who was stood there. It wasn’t Pansy this time.

“Why are you here?” Marcus asked when he saw Oliver stood in the grate

Oliver seemed to be holding something in his hand but Marcus ignored it. “Well?” He asked when he was given no answer.

“I just - last night. An’ then this morning.”

Marcus sighed. “What about it?”

Oliver took a step closer but Marcus was going to hold his ground this time, he crossed his arms over his chest and rose a questioning brow. “Well?” He asked.

“I missed ye,” Oliver answered.

Marcus rolled his eyes, “of course you did.” He couldn’t give in this easily. “You have a girlfriend, Wood. Go take your arse back to her and tell her you were just drunk or something.”

“I cannae,” Oliver admitted.

“Why not?”

“Because I already told ‘er I love ye”

Marcus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, this was beginning to take all of his energy to fight and he needed that stupid Scottish accent to just shut-up for a minute because he kept saying things that made him forget how to think...how to breathe.  
“And what, I’m supposed to just believe you?” He asked.

“Hae I ever lied to ye?” Oliver asked back.

Marcus had to admit that no, no he hadn’t as far as he knew. He always knew Oliver was in denial about who he was. That he had no intention of coming clean to his family and friends had been obvious from the beginning yet Marcus carried on everyday letting his heart break that little bit more when he knew it was never going to end well. “Hmmfp” was all he could manage because he refused to agree with the stupid Scottish prick right now.

“I figured ye wouldnae believe me so I brought this.” Oliver said as he pushed the paper in his hands towards Marcus.

Marcus took the offering and opened it up. It was tomorrow’s Daily Prophet, there on the front was a picture of the two of them in the corridor the night before. There was Oliver crashing into him and then they were a mess of lips and limbs. You could see Oliver quite clearly, could practically hear the rough moans between the two but you couldn’t exactly make out the second person except that it was a man. A slightly taller, darker haired, well toned man. Marcus couldn’t take his eyes off of the picture. He must have watched the loop five times before he saw the headline. ‘PUDDLEMERE UTD CPT OLIVER WOOD PLAYING FOR THE OTHER TEAM’

He could feel his face drain of colour as the words sank in, the picture in comparison was nothing to the words it accompanied. He gulped. “Merlin...you said she wouldn’t-” Marcus said as he looked up to Oliver. He noticed Oliver was eyeing him closely, no emotions betraying his perfect face.

“She didnae” He answered.

Marcus looked back to the paper just to make sure; yep, the words were still there. He looked up to Oliver for clarification.

“I did.” He said in that thick accent that almost knocked Marcus to the floor.

“You did what?” Had he just heard him right? Did Oliver Wood, the man who prided himself on being firmly in the closet, just seriously admit to having a hand in that headline?

Oliver just shrugged sheepishly in reply.

“Everyone is going to see this, you do realise that don’t you?” He asked.

“Of course I dae. Which is why I told anyone that mattered before it goes oot tomorrow. Look, if its th’ picture you’re bothered about nobody can e’en tell it’s-”

“I don’t give a fuck about the picture Oliver, everyone knows I’m gay anyway. I’m just - why have you done this?”

“For you,” Oliver answered honestly.

“For me? Did you just use a headline like that to win me back? You haven’t even apologised, you nearly fucking broke me.”

“I know Marc, I do know, believe me. I’m sorry. I could apologise for the rest of our lives and it would never be enough. It nearly broke me too.”

“Give it a try” Marcus said bitterly, he was still staring at the paper, the headline promised a good story on the next page. He almost didn’t want to open the paper. Wasn’t sure if he could even take it in anymore. “Do I need to know what’s in here?”

Oliver nodded sadly. “I’d appreciate it if ye read it.”

“Fine,” Marcus said as he moved towards the couch to find his glasses. “What about your parents?” He asked as nonchalantly as he could manage.

“I tried to tell ‘em,” Oliver answered back.

“But what?”

“But they already ken, the gay thing I mean. So they say.” Oliver said with a shrug.

It took all of Marcus’ energy not to laugh. That the man had tried so hard to hide how he felt about men for so long hadn’t been such a secret at all was just a touch ironic. He found his glasses then and read the article. He walked back and forth across the room as he went through it word by word. By all accounts the headline and picture were enough to suck any reader into Skeeters world of tall tales but Marcus knew from what was printed that none of these things were exaggerated. In fact, he was surprised she hadn’t tried to make Oliver Wood’s helpless love life more dramatic. He read all about how the perfect Gryffindor had tried so hard to be the perfect son, the best friend, the most amazing keeper. How he tried to keep up with his image by having a parade of suitable girlfriends but how they were all a lie. He read about how, through Hogwarts, Oliver fell in love with another man through their shared love of quidditch, how they spent lonely nights together during the war hoping it wouldn’t be the last. How he, as part of the Order of the Phoenix, would run off to fight battles that his lover would have done anything to stop him from doing had he known. How he never thought his family or friends would accept him that way so he broke up with the only person he had ever loved. He had tried to move on, tried to be as perfect as they thought he was but it just made him miserable. He would drink, take potions to block out the pain. Make sure he was never, in anyway, ever, anywhere near his ex because he had known one look into that man’s eyes and he would fall hard again. But then he saw him at the Malfoy-Granger engagement party and-. Marcus put the paper down, he had read enough.

“Did you tell them about me?” Marcus asked as he folded the paper back up.

“Skeeter? Of course not.” Oliver replied indignantly.

“I meant your parents,” Marcus replied.

Oliver’s face went red, “I, oh um, I mean ye. I hope you donnae mind.”

“What did they say?”

“They want tae meet ye, that is if ye want tae meet them.”

“Oh,” Marcus replied. His weekend had seriously taken a strange turn. He had started it out single and miserable and now he well, he didn’t know what he was if he was honest.

“Marc?” Oliver asked.

“Yeah?”

“I am sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“I know” Marcus sighed, because he did, after reading that article he could understand it at least a little bit.

“And I never stopped loving ye,” Oliver said as he took a step closer.

“Yeah, that’s the way love works unfortunately.” Marcus replied as he tried to look anywhere but at the other man’s lips. It wasn’t working.

“I miss ye,” he said taking another step.

They were almost nose to nose now.

“I want-” Oliver started.

“You don’t know what you want,”Marcus said, he was trying so desperately hard to hold his own but he was oh so weak when it came to Oliver fucking Wood.

Oliver smiled. “I know I want ye, I’ve never stopped wanting ye.”

“Why?” Marcus asked.

“So I can kiss ye anytime I want,” Oliver replied as he finally took that last step and let their lips meet. He wasn’t sure if Marcus would return his affections so had only planned a small peck on the lips but somehow he felt a gutteral need to show this man just how much he meant to him and the moment their lips met he knew it would be anything but short.

Marcus felt his resolve weaken each step Oliver took forward, he had hoped for a short and sweet kiss, one he could wave off as not even really happening and then he could show the idiot back to the floo and go back to the shower and remember the kiss from the night before but the second their lips met his resolve broke and a dam crashed through through him. They kissed and kissed and Marcus pulled Oliver closer so he could feel him against his own body, feel the erection he couldn’t hide. Oliver’s hands were in his hair and they were gasping for breath, lips colliding when the floo went again.

This time it was Pansy and she was absolutely raging. She’d clearly heard about the paper then. Marcus looked from his friend to Oliver, grinned and kissed him sweetly just one last time before saying “you’ve earnt this one, Ol.” Before turning away to brew them all some tea, half listening to the talking down Oliver was getting and unable to help himself from smirking everytime the poor man tried to get a word in.

He produced the tea and cookies soon enough and entered the room where Oliver looked particularly ashamed of himself, Marcus might be able to forgive him one day but he knew Pansy never would. That girl collected grudges. Marcus sat the tray down and served Pansy first, letting her have her pick of the cookies, she was heavily pregnant after all and he had learnt never to mess with a pregnant woman’s need for food. “Everything okay?” He asked as he blew on his tea.

“No” Pansy glared at him.

“Just getting better acquainted,” Oliver said with a smile as he dipped a cookie in his own drink.

The rest of Pansy’s visit was just as tense, she carried on dressing Oliver down until Marcus came in and rescued him, threatening to go and get Ron to take her home. Eventually she left on her own accord but not without a word of warning to Oliver from her. They all knew she meant it too. Marcus had to admit that watching the two of them had made him feel things he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel. Pansy was very protective over what was hers and usually Oliver didn’t take shit from anyone but he sat there for at least two hours listening to the witch go on about all the curses and hexes she knew and what would happen if he ever broke Marcus’ heart again and all the other twisted things she could do. And if Marcus heard the words ‘I’m sorry’ just once more he swore he was going to be the one casting curses, it wasn’t like his father hadn’t seen fit to teach him them.

“Should I be worried about anyone else?”

“What?” Marcus asked, having been too concerned with thinking about Pansy and curses to know what Oliver was asking.

“Your friends,” Oliver started, “is there anyone else I should be worried about?” He asked.

“Probably all of them, Draco, Theo and Ades the most though. Probably Daphne too. Though none as bad as Pans.”

“Good job I plan on sticking around then.” Oliver said as he looked at Marcus.

Marcus could see the raw honesty in those brown eyes, he knew he was telling the truth.

“Maybe I’ll even keep you,” he replied as he shifted closer and took Oliver’s hand in his own, “now where were we?” He asked before leaning down and kissing him again. After all, they had months to catch up on.


End file.
